Feel Me
by mangochi
Summary: Kirk's last regret before death is not being able to touch Spock. Now that he has a second chance at life, he wonders how to go about satisfying this inexplicable desire. Rated T because I'm not nearly good enough for M...yet.
1. Chapter 1

Kirk glanced at Spock, standing beside him on the bridge with hands clasped loosely behind his back. He looked at those hands now, those long pale fingers that had been his farewell in the heart of the Enterprise. He wondered absently what they would feel like against his own, without the cold glass between them this time. Would they be as icy and hard as the Vulcan would have everyone believe, or maybe soft and warm and-He shook his head slightly, and stretched his legs out, reclining into the captain's chair. Stupid.

He might have had an inkling of these stupid thoughts _before, _but now they consumed his entire mind. That damn curiosity of his tugged at his attention, whispering all sorts of unwholesome ideas. He often found himself suddenly wondering whether Spock had ever had a hard-on, or if he'd ever had a dirty dream. And who appeared in those dreams, if he had.

"Captain."

Jim blinked and looked up. His first officer was watching him, with a quizzical tilt to an eyebrow. Spock claimed to have no emotions, strongly insisted sometimes, but Kirk had been with him long enough to read the subtle shifts in his expressions. A slight tilt of the head, a deepening in the furrows between his brows. He wondered if the Vulcan blushed green when he was turned on…

He suddenly realized that Spock had spoken again. "Yes, Mr. Spock."

"Your motor reflexes seem to be disoriented, Captain. Shall I summon-"

"Hell no, keep Bones out of this." The maniacal doctor would have him hypoed for a hangnail if Kirk let him have his way. "I'm fine."

"I have learned from past experiences, Captain, that the human phrase 'I'm fine' often insinuates that the condition of the subject in question is, in fact, quite the opposite. If you please, I must insist that you visit the medbay at once."

"Spock," Kirk complained. The crew members on the bridge appeared to be trying very hard to pretend that they weren't listening. Kirk stood abruptly. "Come with me, Mr. Spock."

As soon as the doors shut behind them, Kirk seized Spock's elbow, driven by some mad, _illogical_, feeling that even he couldn't identify. He rarely touched the Vulcan, and his first officer seemed taken aback for a brief moment. Then the moment passed and he was smooth and blank again. "Is there a problem, Captain?"

"No. Yes." Kirk released Spock and turned away, running a hand through his brown hair absently. "Spock," he said suddenly, wheeling back to face his first officer.

"Yes, Captain." He was frowning slightly. Kirk found himself mesmerized by the wrinkle in the pale skin between his eyes. He opened his mouth automatically, realized he had no idea what to say, and closed it again. Then, "Could we. Could we maybe go to your quarters, Spock?"

Spock's frown deepened, and he took a step forward. Kirk's breath hitched at the unexpected move, and he stumbled back a step. Spock froze instantly. "Captain?"

"I-I'm fine. It's nothing. Don't worry about it." He rubbed the back of his neck, immensely regretting the whole thing. What was he thinking, anyway? That he could just call out Spock and be all, _Hey, I can't stop thinking about you since I died. Let me touch your hand?_ Moron.

Spock's head inclined a degree to the side as he considered Kirk. "Vulcans do not worry, Captain."

"Well, good, because-"

"However, I consider my Captain's well-being to be of high priority, as he is of the highest authority aboard this ship, and therefore am inclined to be somewhat more focused on his mental state." His head tilted a little more. Kirk found himself unable to meet those suddenly piercing eyes. "I believe _you_ are worried about something, Captain, judging by your increase in heart rate and pupil dilation upon exiting the bridge."

"Me? Don't be ridiculous, Spock. When do I worry about anything?" Kirk tried to laugh it off, but the smile died on his face when Spock merely stared him down. "_Fine_. I'm…worried." Not his exact word of choice, but let the Vulcan believe that if he wanted. "Just don't call Bones. The man would tear me apart."

"I do not understand, Captain. I doubt Dr. McCoy would be so extreme as to-"

"It's a joke, Spock. Don't worr-Don't think too hard about it."

A moment of swelling silence. "I believe we should progress to my quarters after all, Captain," Spock said at last. "The corridor is hardly a location to discuss your concerns."

"Huh, yeah. Yeah, sure."

They went on their way, Kirk feeling a certain level of panic in his chest. He hadn't imagined things going this far, wasn't sure what he had expected in the first place. His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them subtly against his thighs. But…if he got to touch Spock…it would all be worth it. He couldn't explain this urge, this longing. It had definitely not been like this before the Khan affair. It was as if the event had been a catalyst, smashing down rational barriers and swelling mild curiosity into full-blown desire.

They reached Spock's rooms before Kirk could sort out his mind, and before he knew it, Spock had seated himself on his bunk and was politely indicating the one chair in the chamber.

Kirk sat awkwardly, rubbing his hands again on his legs. Even the way Spock sat….hands on knees, back stiff and straight…he wanted to touch him so bad. He swallowed hard. "Um."

"Are you not feeling well, Captain? Headache, nausea?"

He had to laugh a little at that. "Have you been hanging with the doc, Commander? What's with the interrogation?"

A pause. "I have not been…hanging….with the doctor, Captain. I was merely attempting to gain a general knowledge of your…worries."

"My physical condition isn't the problem." In a manner of speaking, it was, but Kirk wasn't about to let the conversation stray in _that_ direction. Fortunately, Spock moved on.

"And your mental state, Captain? You did receive a full blood transfusion recently, Captain. Unforeseen side effects would not be un-"

"It's not that." He really was starting to get a headache now, and nausea was probably not far behind. "Look, I don't really want to ask this of you. I know…I know how much you won't like it."

Spock leaned forward, puzzled, and Kirk twitched. His face felt hot. He hoped he wasn't lighting up like a Christmas tree. Hell, he hadn't blushed since his Academy days. He rubbed his jaw nervously, trying to slow his suddenly racing heart. "What do you want from me, Captain?" Spock inquired.

_Your hands. Your lips. Your skin and breath and heart and thought._ "Not much, really. Well, not much for humans. Vulcans, probably a lot more. I mean-it's something little for me, but probably a big deal for you. That's why I…I didn't want to-"

"Captain." Spock cut off his rambling, which Kirk was pathetically thankful for. "What. Do you want."

"…canitouchyourhand."

"Captain? I'm not sure I heard-"

"Can I…" Swallow. His throat was dry. "Can I touch your…your hand, Spock."

"My…hand."

"Your hand." Oh God, he _had_ to say it. Kirk wanted to climb back into the warp core at that moment.

Spock was silent. Speechless, probably. Kirk didn't blame him. He was no expert on Vulcan relations, but he suspected that he had just asked Spock to do the human equivalent of giving him a strip tease on the table. Whipped cream and cherries and all. The thought sent a jolt of heat to his groin and he flinched in horror. No. Spock would _kill _him. He shifted his legs uncomfortably, then chanced a glance at his first officer's face.

He seemed to be taking it…well. No expression, but no surprise there. Kirk cleared his throat. "Look…I'm just being stupid, you know. It's me. I…I do stupid things. It's just…I can't stop thinking about it. You know, what happened down _there_. And you don't talk about it. And I don't talk about it. But I think about it. All the time. How we…" His throat was _so _dry. He swallowed again, licked his lips.

He imagined Spock watching the action and almost groaned in self-disgust. He was truly a disgusting individual. Spock was his friend. He had said so himself. That and nothing else. "How we were on opposite sides. Of the door." He wasn't sure what he was saying anymore, but the words kept coming, as if he had finally unlocked the door and let out everything he didn't even know he had inside. "We couldn't touch, you know? The door…it was the last thing I remember. I remember wishing the door wasn't there. Not so I could get out. I wasn't that far gone to think I could be saved. But…just to be able to touch someone before I…before I died. I guess." He finished lamely.

Spock stood. The movement was so sudden, so unexpected, that Kirk jerked in the chair and nearly fell out. The Vulcan took two long strides and was kneeling in front of Kirk, head inclined upwards so he was staring up at his captain's face. "Your hand then, Captain," he said. Kirk almost hated the smoothness of his voice, the unfazed expression. He had just spilled his damn heart out and Spock was going to ignore-that was practically _Shakespeare_, that was! But the offer, the offer was too damn good to refuse.

He lifted his hand. His fingers were trembling. Spock reached up, gently brushed his fingertips against Kirk's palm. The contact was almost electrifying. A small burst of golden light exploded behind Kirk's eyes, and he blinked hard to clear them. He suddenly wondered what it would feel like to have his entire body touched, and pure Kirk-like impulsiveness moved his hand and pressed it against Spock's, palm to palm.

Curiosity. Pleasure. Blinding desire. It was everything Kirk had never expected from Spock, and it was everything he felt through their hands. He wasn't sure where his own longing ended and where Spock's began. Their hands seemed glued together; he couldn't let go even if he wanted to. His breath caught in his chest as Spock let out a strange growl that was half a groan. "Captain…"

"What…what was it you did that time?" Kirk murmured. He felt almost feverish, and saw that Spock was in a similar state. His ordinarily pale skin was tinged green with blood, glimmering with a faint sheen of sweat. Kirk shifted his hand into a clumsy Vulcan salute, fingers trembling. Spock mirrored him almost unconsciously, until their fingers matched. An overwhelming wave of eye-watering longing slammed into Kirk, echoed in the low moan that rumbled from Spock's chest. The Vulcan's head drooped onto Kirk's knees, the contact jerking Kirk briefly from his fiery daze. He involuntarily tried to pull away, but Spock's fingers clenched down and intertwined with his, locking their hands together.

"Spock," Kirk breathed, unable to say much else. "What…I didn't think…"

"Don't think," Spock growled, his voice vibrating against Kirk's legs. He looked up, reached with his free hand and grasped the back of Kirk's neck. "Feel."

_Well, shit._

Kirk couldn't help but lick his lips again, and this time he was almost positive that Spock's eyes followed the movement. The Vulcan's next words confirmed it. "Do not do that."

"What? This?" He licked his lips again, slower this time. Spock squeezed down on his hand again, and golden fireworks-young Spock Academy red Cadet Kirk Captain _his _Captain love love love-exploded. "_That_," he growled, when Kirk had caught his breath again. "It discomforts me."

"I thought Vulcans didn't _feel_, Mr. Spock."

"I am half-human, Captain, and am therefore entitled to a few faults."

Kirk snorted. "It's _Jim_, you dolt. And there's nothing wrong with a few faults," he teased. "You can feel me, can't you?" They were standing now, somehow, must have happened while Kirk was whirling in the fireworks. Kirk stepped forward, until their chests touched, their hands pressed between them.

"I can…I can feel you," Spock responded, his voice strangely raspy. "I always have." Kirk leaned forward, until his forehead bumped the Vulcan's shoulder. That uncomfortable, niggling urge deep in his bones had all but vanished, sated by the contact he had unconsciously longed for. Spock always did that, always completed the fragments and filled in the holes in his being. And at that, Kirk snorted. He wondered how long it would be before he got Spock to fill in _the _hole.

"What is it?"

Kirk squeezed their hands. "A human fault, Mr. Spock. Nothing to worry about."

**A/N: Thanks for the favorites and reviews, guys! This is my first "official" fanfic, though I am by no means inexperienced in the arts of shipping and composing all kinds of dubious fantasies in my head. Hopefully I'll only get better at putting what's in my head down in writing. Thanks again!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They touched often after that, in the privacy of Spock's rooms, or Kirk's. Just hands, to Kirk's disappointment, but Spock seemed content with it and frankly, it was nothing to complain about. The PADD lay forgotten on his task as he closed his eyes, tapping his finger on the arm of the chair absently as he thought back to just the day before.

They were in Spock's quarters again, pressed together against the wall by the doors. Fingers, long and steely and _hot_, caressing Spock's hand, stroking his palm. Golden bursts that melded their minds and their souls and left Kirk wondering how they could have ever lived in two separate bodies. Spock's voice, low and growling, panting against Kirk's ear as he struggled with emotions only _he_, only Kirk could bring out. He was proud of that, in a childish way, that only he had ever seen the Vulcan in this state. "More," he had rumbled, and Kirk had obliged eagerly, pressing Spock's fingers to his own lips. They hadn't gone further than that, though Kirk had wistfully longed to take those fingers into his mouth and shown Spock what his _real_ forte was.

A brief knock, followed by an immediate swoosh as the doors to Kirk's quarters opened.

Kirk opened his eyes reluctantly, looked up, and scowled. "_What_, Bones?"

The doctor scowled back. "You're past due for your physical exam, Jim. If I may remind you, you promised-_swore_-you would come two weeks ago! Must I go to the hobgoblin about this?"

"Don't you dare, Bones. He'll nag me until-"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Bones snapped. "You must think me stupid."

Kirk blinked, thrown off-guard. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He's been coming round this past week with-with all kinds of…._questions_. And I sure as hell don't know how-don't _want _to-answer them!"

"Who's asking questions?" Kirk was feeling lost, and he didn't like the feeling.

"Your pointy-eared minion! I don't want to know what you and him have been up to or what you've been putting into that mind of his. I don't want any part of it."

"_Bones_. What are you _talking _about?"

The doctor threw his arms into the air and whirled around in frustration. "Those damn questions about _sex_, of course! How two…two 'humanoid males', this is in his exact words, would '_undergo fornication'_."

"What did you tell him?" Kirk asked, fascinated. So Spock was curious about _that _at last, was he? Well, he'd be glad to tea-

Bones grunted, back still turned to Kirk. He was pouting, the poor man. Kirk would really have to have that exam now, to make it up to him. "Basic mechanics. What goes in where, such and such. Told him he could figure it out from there."

Kirk grinned. "You're a champ, doc." He stood, throwing his arms out dramatically. "Do as you will with me. I owe you much gratitude, good sir."

"Damn right you do," Bones grumbled. "Tell the imp to leave me out of your-your affairs from now on. I don't want anything to do with it, you hear? And he better not be back with more…questions."

Kirk couldn't help but feel a trickle of excitement tightening his chest even as Bones poked and prodded and grumbled. Tonight, it seemed, would be filled with all sorts of surprises.

…..

Kirk was waiting when Spock entered. Had been waiting for a while, actually. He had experimented with poses while waiting, contemplating an inviting sprawl on the bed or emerging from the showers freshly steaming and horny, or merely sitting upright with his legs spread suggestively. In the end, he had resigned himself to the latter, knowing the Vulcan wouldn't be able to pick up on any of his all too human signals. In that way, at least, his first officer was quite dim.

The door shut behind Spock, and they looked at each other in an almost comfortable silence. There was an odd note of tension in the air, Kirk imagined, but it wasn't altogether awkward. "Spock," he said at last.

"Captain." Spock stepped forward and Kirk rose automatically, hands outstretched. Spock hesitated, then pulled back and stood straight, hands clasped behind his back. "I have been conducting…research of late, Jim, on several of your human rituals."

"Oh, have you now?" Kirk couldn't stop his lips from twitching. He sat back down, reclining comfortably. "And who did you learn them from?" He'd never let Bones live this one down.

"A reliable source," Spock replied primly. "One who is well-learned in the physiology of the human race."

Kirk had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. "And what did you learn, Mr. Spock?"

Spock considered the question carefully, then answered gravely, "I have learned that the human body has many erogenous zones, not completely dissimilar to those of my own kind."

"Uh huh." Kirk let his eyes wander over Spock's body, his perfect stance. The broad chest, those shoulders, narrow hips in black fabric…

Spock must have noticed Kirk's heated gaze as he answered, his voice deepening. "I have also learned that humans are most directly stimulated through the use of their…mouths." He said the last oddly, as if still unfamiliar with the concept. "Is this correct?"

All too correct. "More or less," Kirk affirmed, then grinned. This was more fun than he had expected. The tension in the atmosphere was still there, but it only added to his excitement. He shifted his knees farther apart and watched with satisfaction as Spock's eyes darted down, then back up. "Would you like to check for yourself?"

Spock's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "It would not be totally…unwise to make a confirmation."

"No," Kirk agreed. "It wouldn't." Spock moved forward, almost hesitantly, and bent over Kirk, placing his hands on the back of the chair and trapping Kirk in place. Kirk's heart pounded, and electricity jolted up his spine when he noticed how close their faces were. "Spock," he breathed.

"Don't speak," Spock frowned. He was studying Kirk's lips very closely, eyes wide in fascination. "I am attempting to fortify my mental barriers in order to perceive your body's natural response to physical stimulus."

The word "stimulus" had never seemed more hot and heavy with potential to Kirk until that moment. He held still while Spock "fortified", forming his own plan of attack while the Vulcan stared. He would go for the ears first, he decided, after the lips, of course. He had often wondered what they would feel like in his mouth, those pointy tips. And then the neck, then down his chest…the shirt would have to go, after the ears. And then-

Spock lowered his face even more, and Kirk stopped thinking.

"You have ceased your respiratory functions, Jim," Spock murmured. Kirk found himself staring at Spock's mouth, watching the thin lips move and curl with each word. They were so close…_so_…._close._ He loved the sound of Spock's voice, but he really needed to stop talking. Now. "Is that natural?"

"Urmgh," Kirk strangled out, and grabbed the front of Spock's shirt and pulled their mouths together. Spock's mouth was still half-open, and Kirk seized the chance to invade it, hooking his arms around Spock's neck and tugging them closer. His tongue was hot, hotter than Kirk had expected, and his breath burned like fire. True to his word, Spock's mental barriers were magnificently fortified, and Kirk felt his old libido stirring at the familiar sensations. It was a moment before Spock could reciprocate, but reciprocate he did, moving a hand from the back of the chair to grip Kirk's hair.

"You're a fast learner, Mr. Spock," Kirk finally managed to breathe, before Spock silenced him once more. It was then, for some inexplicable reason, that Kirk suddenly wondered what Spock really thought of him. They were friends. Colleagues. Crew. Family. But…he couldn't help but remember the first time they had touched hands, and the emotions…surely he hadn't read that wrong.

He shoved Spock away, mind reeling. He couldn't do this. Not without knowing for sure. If Spock had done it just because he thought it was his-his _duty, _Kirk would never be able to live with himself. The Vulcan was so inexperienced in human ways that he was almost like a kid.

Spock pulled back, looking slightly alarmed. "Is something wrong, Captain? Was it something I-"

"No! Not you." Kirk pushed himself up shakily-the damn Vulcan had kissed him _into _the chair-and turned away, unable to meet Spock's eyes. "It's not you. I'm sorry. We just can't-_I _just can't do this if you're…you know. I can't take advantage of you like this."

Spock was still for a long, terrible moment, then stood. Kirk could feel his presence pulling away and shuddered at the unexpected feeling of loss. Damn, he was in too deep. "It appears," said Spock, voice smooth and controlled once more, "that there is some misunderstanding between us. Please clarify."

Kirk shifted his feet uncomfortably. He hadn't wanted it to be like this. Part of him wanted nothing more than to yank Spock back down and continue where they left off, but the rest of him wanted something…better. Something more. _Greedy bastard,_ he cursed himself. What more did he want? "It's just…do you even know what we're doing, Spock? Does this…does this mean anything to you?"

Silence. Well, he hadn't expected a response, really, but somehow, the reality of the situation made it much worse. "I mean, I do this all the time. With other-but they didn't-it didn't mean anything to them. But it's different now. With you, I mean." Kirk stopped talking abruptly as soon as he saw Spock's face. There was an expression there that Kirk had only seen once before, once upon a time when they had brawled on the bridge. "Spock?"

"How many?" That voice wasn't too controlled now. Kirk began to feel a sense of nervousness. Spock's hands suddenly clamped back on the armrests and Kirk shied back, the arms that had been so tender just moments ago now like menacing bars. "S-Spock?"

"How many others?" His face was too close, bright spots of green high in his cheeks. His black eyes were glittering like hard black gems, and something that had been held back, restrained before, now burned bright at their forefront.

"Uhm." Kirk couldn't focus, not with that face so close to his own. "I-I don't know."

"Are your…conquests so insignificant to you, Captain? Am I just one of your many others?" Something was seriously going wrong. Kirk shook his head vehemently. "No! Not you. I don't see you like that." How could Spock even think that? Kirk had never tried so hard, been so high-strung, over _anyone_ before.

The fury vanished from Spock's eyes, replaced by something that was…hurt? No. No no no. Kirk reached up automatically, but Spock pushed away again, and turned his back. That move sent a jolt of staggering pain through Kirk's chest, rendering him speechless.

"I must have been mistaken, Captain," Spock spoke at last, voice just barely unsteady. "I wrongly assumed that our relationship has gone, by human standards, beyond that of captain and subordinate."

_Shit._ "Spock-"

"I will correct my behavior immediately, Captain, and will advise that you and I forget that the events of these past few days ever transpired."

_Shitshitshitno_. "No, Spock, you've-"

"I apologize, Captain, for my lapse in judgment. Please see fit to-"

"Will you _stop _that?!" Kirk leaped up, unable to hold still any longer, and threw his arms around Spock, preventing him from leaving. The Vulcan held very still, despite his superior speed and strength. "Don't say that," Kirk muttered, voice muffled by Spock's shoulder. "Don't say that this was a mistake."

"It was a mistake for me to assume that this meant something to you, Captain," Spock answered, voice colder than the glaciers of Delta Vega.

"I _love _you, you asshole!" Kirk snapped, yanking Spock around. He gripped the Vulcan's arms, pinning them to his side and glaring up at that damned hard face. "I may not be able to count all the-all the _others_, but there's only been _one_ person that I've gone this far for and it's a stupid hobgoblin bastard that doesn't know _jack_ about how much I want him! It's you, Spock! It's only been you, and as far as I'm concerned, it's always going to be! So stop this and-and _feel _me, you bastard! Feel _me!_" He was panting after the outburst and almost in tears. He buried his face in Spock's shoulder, discarding any semblance of pride. "It's not a mistake," he mumbled stubbornly. Spock lifted his arms, breaking free of Kirk's grip easily, and wrapped them tentatively around his captain. "It's not."

"It is not," Spock agreed. His voice shook, rumbling against their touching torsos. "I am sorry, Jim."

Kirk clung tight to Spock, fingers hooking the fabric of his shirt. He sniffled. "Moron."

"Yes. I know."

"Ass."

"I am aware."

"I love you, you know that?"

"I know." Spock had been patting Kirk's back consolingly, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. "I…I also…" He fell silent, and Kirk could sense him internally struggling to voice those completely alien-_human -_words. He chuckled, and Spock stiffened. "This is not an amusing matter, Jim," he said stiffly, almost sullenly.

"I know," Kirk amended. He looked up, held the sides of Spock's face in a semblance of the mind-meld. "I know. It'll take time." He smiled, in that quirky Kirk smile that he knew Spock couldn't resist. "But I'll wait."

Spock's hands slid down, gripping Kirk's waist, and yanked him close. Kirk's breath hitched, and he grinned, tightening his fingers in Spock's black hair. "I heard you've been researching human intercourse, Mr. Spock?"

"Mm." Spock leaned forward, rested his forehead against Kirk's. "Dr. McCoy has been most helpful, yes," he murmured.

Kirk tilted up, kissed Spock once lightly. "We'll have to thank him later," he breathed, and a growl rumbled from Spock's throat. Needless to say, they wouldn't get around to the medbay until the next morning.

**A/N: Thanks for the favorites and reviews, guys! This is my first "official" fanfic, though I am by no means inexperienced in the arts of shipping and composing all kinds of dubious fantasies in my head. Hopefully I'll only get better at putting what's in my head down in writing. Thanks again!**

**edit: HAHAHAHA thanks for the reviews, guys. They really do make my day and inspire more chapters. The power of your enthusiasm has activated this chapter and most likely the next, so congratulations for evolving this nonsensical one-shot into an attempt at actual story. Unfortunately, even the magnificent power of readers is unable to sustain permanently what was only intended to be a spewing of fluff plot and headcanons, and so there will probably be just one more chapter of Feel Me. I will try my darnest to make it a good one, so please continue to support more Spirk fics to come! THANK YOU SO MUCH!**


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: In which Spock is frustrated and McCoy gives love counseling. From Spock's POV.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Chapter 3

"Captain on the bridge!" Chekov exclaimed, as the doors swooshed open and James Tiberius Kirk strode in. The captain nodded and grinned at the Russian prodigy and slung himself comfortably into his chair with an ease born of an explosive ego and unfathomable depths of self-confidence. "Hello, gentlemen. Ladies." He waggled devilish eyebrows at Uhura, who rolled her eyes with a resigned sort of disdain and swiveled her chair away.

Spock frowned slightly, critiquing that last observation mentally. Eyebrows were not sentient beings, therefore unable to be described with words such as "devilish". In fact, they could only be described through physical characteristics, such as "angled" and "dark" and "expressive," though the last could be brought into question due to the fact that-

"Mr. Spock!"

Spock immediately emerged from the confusing murk his thought process had been delving and snapped to attention. "Captain."

Kirk had his head tilted backwards, observing Spock, who stood behind him. Even upside-down, he could make out the unique angle of the corner of Kirk's lips that twitched when he smiled. Spock had never observed such a smile on any other human being and often found himself inexplicably distracted by it.

"My duties, Mr. Spock," said those lips now, and Spock blinked again, focusing instead on the captain's eyes. A poorly thought-out decision, as it turned out. "Ah, yes, Captain." Spock dragged his gaze from Kirk's illogically blue eyes and turned his attention to the PADD in his hand. "Mr. Scott requires your presence in engineering after morning shift, sir. I believe he has a list of desirable upgrades in mind. Following that, there has been some issue on observation deck three…" He rattled off the schedule automatically, allowing his mind to drift to other, more pressing issues…such as the unexpected softness of the captain's lips, the rough chapped flesh that had so eagerly devoured his own. The wet heat that had pressed into his mouth, seeking…something. Hot skin under the gold shirt, tensing muscles that flexed and tightened beneath Spock's touch. The emotional projections that seeped through the cracks of weakening mental barriers, yearning the golden fire that was Kirk's passionate, overwhelming, _illogically seductive_ mind.

"…that will be all, Captain." Spock placed the PADD on his desk and clasped his hands in the small of his back. "If you will excuse me, sir, I have business to attend to elsewhere."

Kirk turned around, curiosity bright in those electrifying blue eyes. "Elsewhere?"

"Not in our present location, sir."

"Yeah, I gathered that much. Where, then?"

Spock paused, an unfamiliar sensation coiling awkwardly in his belly. Was this panic? He searched his mental archives on human expressions swiftly and confirmed its identity. Panic it was indeed. He clamped down firmly on it and smoothed his face. In such situations, it was strategically advantageous to tell the truth. "I must pay a visit to Dr. McCoy, Captain. He has asked me to compile what I believe to be an extensive list of your missed exams over the course of the past six months." Or, at least a form of it. The doctor had indeed asked him to compile such a list, though he had completed the task a week ago.

As expected, Kirk's face twisted in distaste and he dropped his line of questioning. "You are excused, then, Mr. Spock. Carry on."

With a sense of…relief, Spock inclined his head and left the bridge. Despite the doctor's threats of _"I'll clip those pointy ears if you come back asking about-about other indecent matters, you hear?!",_ he found himself heading to medbay to do just that. After the first time, in Kirk's quarters-Spock's ears tingled illogically at the memory-they had never attempted intimate relations beyond the occasional brushing of fingers and minds. Spock found the process pleasant, of course. Delving into Kirk's mind was an opportunity he would never pass up; he was fascinated by the intricate and heated workings of the captain's remarkable sanctum. However, recently, he had been consumed with a yearning for something beyond that. Something similar to that first experience, in fact. Kirk had told him, "Spock, you need some time. I won't…trust me, I won't press you again like this." He had lain in his bed, unable to settle into even a light meditative trance, replaying the scene over and over, wondering if he had made some irreparable error on a human scale. Unable to identify such a mistake by his own limited experience, he had decided to consult Dr. McCoy once more, regardless of any threats to his physical well-being.

He found the doctor refilling a pile of hypos with impressive speed, muttering grimly under his breath. He looked up sharply at Spock's entrance. "And what do _you _need, Mr. Spock?" he asked warily, clearly wondering whether he would have to resort to physical attack after all. Spock stood at a safe distance from the man, just in case. "What are you doing, doctor?" he countered.

"What?" McCoy looked down at his work, caught off-guard. "Oh. It's for Jim."

Spock frowned in concern. "Is the captain suffering some form of ailment?"

"Well, not _yet_. But you know Jim. I wouldn't be surprised if he came in today with a ruptured spleen and sixteen broken bones from picking up a PADD. I swear, the man can't do a thing without everything blowing up around him." McCoy seemed to remember who he was speaking to and looked up again suspiciously. "What were you here for again?"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back, trying to reorganize his briefly ruffled thoughts. "I have some...matters which require your understanding of human customs, doctor."

McCoy exploded. "No! _No!_ Not _again!_ I warned you last time, didn't I?"

"Doctor-"

"Damn it! I'm a doctor, not a love counselor!"

"Dr. McCoy-"

"Look, Jim's my friend, okay? And I-I respect his choices and all that, but that doesn't mean I have to _assist in his dubious activities_, all right? So I wish you the best of luck, and don't come around again unless you're bleeding profusely or need of a sound beating."

"Doctor, you misunderstand. I-"

"Good _day_, Mr. Spock." And he bent his head to his work with the fury of a man intent on barricading himself from the world.

Spock sighed, then removed his hands from behind his back, studying them intently as he spoke, "Doctor, I respect your opinions on the matter, but I…I am in need of assistance. You are the only person aboard the ship that I am willing to confide in, not just because of your intellect, but because you are Jim's friend."

McCoy's hands had stilled. Spock took this as a promising sign and pressed on, "I believe I may have made a mistake."

McCoy snorted. "Good God, man, you can't expect me to help you with _that _sort of prob-"

"I believe that I may have committed some error that has led Jim to discontinue our intimate activities."

McCoy was silent for four point seven three seconds. Then, "So he's kicked you out of _bed, _you say? Are you sure this is still Jim here?"

Spock was mildly puzzled by the question. "I believe that the captain's first name is still James, doctor, alternatively known as 'Jim' to close acquaintances," he replied cautiously, unsure of the integrity of his answer. Was this of some importance to the issue at hand?

"Good God," McCoy muttered. He rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily and glared out at Spock between his fingers with a beady eye. "Well, did you remember what I told you the first time? Tab A in Slot B and all that?"

"I believe so."

"And…well? Did it…did…you know. Did it go all right?"

"As well as can be expected, I believe, doctor."

"Jeez, the hell am I doing right now," McCoy grumbled. "Anyway. Did he tell you anything? He say he, I don't know, love you?"

Spock thought back. "He did, in fact, inform me of his emotional attachment to me."

"Well, did you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did you tell _him_ how you felt?"

"No," Spock admitted. He twined his fingers together absently, thinking sadly of Jim's fingers and how he truly missed his touch-not just on his hands, but on his body and face.

"And why the hell not?"

"I…I was unable to voice my own feelings at the time, doctor. I am still unsure as to the reason why."

McCoy gave a heavy sigh. _Illogical, as exhalations of air possess no weight,_ Spock thought absently. "Spock, you are truly a grade-A imbecile."

Spock blinked, surprised. He had been given many derogatory titles before, most by the doctor himself, but none had ever been aimed at his intellect. "Imbecile, doctor?"

"_Yes_. I can't believe-well, I _can_- that you haven't…No wonder he's been like this."

"Please clarify," Spock said, feeling slightly frustrated by his lack of understanding.

McCoy rubbed his eyes again. "Look, Spock, it's a basic human thing. He thinks you don't feel the same way because you haven't _told _him. We're stupid creatures like that, you know. Constantly needing verbal confirmation and such. You'd best make your move quick, though, before he starts thinking you've gone and forgotten."

"He said he would give me time," Spock protested, alarmed once more. Had he waited too long?

"Of course he said that! That doesn't mean he'll wait forever, though!" McCoy eyed Spock thoughtfully, then continued, "And you know Jim. Always popular with the ladies. He'll be taken before you know it if you keep up this…this Vulcan idiocy."

"Taken?" Spock repeated. _"I mean, I do this all the time. With others."_

"Taken," McCoy affirmed solemnly. "Gone. Vamoosh. Snatched."

Something hot and trembling reared in Spock's abdomen, clawing at his chest. No. He couldn't. He couldn't lose Jim. Not now. "Excuse me, Dr. McCoy. I must return to my duties." He was proud of how smooth his voice was. McCoy grunted, already back to work. "Get on with it, then," he replied gruffly. "You can thank me later," he added, so softly that Spock was sure he hadn't been intended to hear. But he had no time to spare to consider the statement as he hurried from the room.

Kirk was not on the bridge, nor in his quarters or Spock's. Spock, who was on the verge of what he was sure was a nervous breakdown when he unexpectedly encountered the captain emerging from engineering, laughing over his shoulder at some Gaelic crude humor Scotty had called out. "Spock!" he exclaimed, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Fancy seeing you here. What's up?"

_My blood pressure, stress levels, and nerve.,_ Spock refrained from answering and instead forced himself into a proper attention stance. "May I escort you to observation deck three, Captain? I believe that is next on your schedule." He was truly losing his grip on the situation, not recalling that he had given the captain his schedule himself like that. He should have known Kirk's exact location upon leaving the medbay and headed down to engineering, instead of rampaging about the ship as he had.

"You may do whatever you wish, Mr. Spock." Kirk's eyes were dancing with a teasing light. _Illogical. Dancing eyes._

They walked in silence for a short while, Spock struggling to formulate some sort of initiation to conversation. Kirk unexpectedly took the lead. "We haven't been alone in a while," he stated quietly.

"No," Spock agreed. "We have not."

Six steps passed in silence. "I've missed you."

Spock nearly stumbled, but recovered his balance with admirable swiftness, he thought, and threw out an automatic reply, "It is illogical to have 'missed' me, Captain, seeing as we work in relatively close proximities every standard day."

Kirk barked a short laugh. "I've missed that, too. You're fun to have around," he added wistfully. His right hand, previously swinging loosely by his side, made a sudden jerking movement, as if intending to take Spock's left hand. Spock watched the movement peripherally, his own hand involuntarily drifting downwards, and then they were at the deck and Kirk's hand was back at his side.

_No, _Spock suddenly realized. _It could not continue in this way._ "Excuse me, Captain." He seized Kirk's elbow and pulled him into the foliage of the observation deck's thick garden. The plants here were in serious need of a trimming, indeed bordering on the definition of a small jungle. Spock dragged Kirk, ignoring protests of, "Spock!", "Spock, stop this!", deep into the greenery, only stopping when they were completely hidden from the door and the rest of the deck.

He released Kirk, who pulled away irritably, scowling. "What the hell is wrong with you, Spock? Dragging me off like that."

Spock dropped his eyes, abashed. "I apologize, Captain. It was completely unwarranted of me."

"Damn right it was!" Kirk snapped. "You could have just asked! I would've gone with you anywh-" His mouth snapped shut, and he glanced at Spock with wide-eyed alarm. His face, Spock observed with mounting interest, was turning a fascinating shade of red. He stepped towards Kirk almost unconsciously, intent on examining this phenomenon more closely. Kirk stumbled back, hands out in protest. "No, wait. I didn't mean-stop that, don't look," he babbled, his coloring deepening with every word. Spock caught his flailing hands by the wrist gently, silencing Kirk immediately, and held them still. It had been so long since they had even come close to touching like this. He allowed himself a moment of bliss, eyes fluttering shut, and moved closer, sliding his hands down until his fingers tangled with Kirk's.

"Jim," he whispered, opening his eyes into a sea of blue. "Jim."

"Wh-whaa?" Kirk mumbled, glancing away. Spock leaned forward, brushed his lips lightly against Kirk's forehead. His heartbeat was becoming more irregular by the second, his mental barriers trembling in Kirk's presence. After all these years of rigid control, seconds with this man somehow managed to put him in this state. He squeezed Kirk's hands, unable to prevent a wave of strong affection, and almost smiled as Kirk melted forward against his chest. He had…missed this.

Kirk seemed to snap out of a daze and began to halfheartedly struggle in Spock's arms. "Wait, Spock," he protested, turning his head as Spock dipped in for a kiss. Spock was in no mind to pay attention, choosing to nuzzle Kirk's exposed jawline instead. "Spock…" Kirk said weakly, but Spock read it as, _More_. He obliged, feeling almost dizzy as he flicked out his tongue, lightly tracing the outer shell of Kirk's ear. "I love you," he breathed, and felt Kirk stiffen. Concerned, he pulled back slightly to study his expression. Kirk was openly staring, mouth half-open. "What?"

"What?" Spock parroted, puzzled.

"What did you say?"

Ah. _Perhaps he didn't hear correctly_. "I love you," Spock enunciated, fascinated by the swiftly deepening shades of Jim's face. "I believe that is the correct phrase, is it not? Jim, are you all right?" The situation seemed to have finally escalated to a medically threatening stage.

"I-I-uhmph." Kirk thumped his head against Spock's chest and slipped his hands away, wrapping them around Spock's waist instead and holding him close. "Why are you so…damn it…"

"Jim? Is every-" The rest of his words were shoved back by Jim's abrupt kiss. Dry lips pressed and parted, offering an invitation that Spock could not, or would not, refuse. "I love you," he whispered, feeling rather than hearing the groan that vibrated through Jim's body. "I love you, Captain. Jim. I am exceedingly sorry for the delay."

Jim gave a breathless laugh as Spock's wandering hands found their way into his shirt. "You should…apologize…more often."

"If you like," Spock murmured distractedly.

"I'd like that very much, I think," Jim breathed, tugging at Spock's lower lip with his teeth in such a way that Spock's vision went temporarily white and he twisted around, shoving Jim's back against the wall with a grunt on the captain's part.

"I love you, Jim" Spock told him firmly, still concerned that Jim had not understood. It was imperative that he did.

"Shut up and show me, then," Jim growled, hitching a leg up and wrapping it demandingly around Spock's waist. They almost didn't make it to Spock's quarters after that.

**A/N: Oh my goodness I apologize for the abrupt ending. My inspirational flow literally encountered a sinkhole and disappeared into the depths of the earth. I just really needed to have Spock proclaim his undying love and hopefully I've finally accomplished that. So yeah. But I literally could not think of a better way to end it. Thus ends my first fanfic on this site, may many more follow in the days to come. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING AND FAVING AND REVIEWING AND I REALLY DO LOVE YOU ALL. **


	4. extra (NOT REQUIRED TO READ)

**A/N: WARNING WARNING WARNING M-RATED. THIS IS AN EXTRA OF THE T-RATED STORY BUT AS THIS IS COMPLETELY UNRELATED TO THE ACTUAL STORY (IT'S LITERALLY JUST SMUT, PPL, DON'T GET PARANOID AND DO SOMETHING YOU MIGHT REGRET). TURN BACK NOW IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO READ M-RATED MATERIAL.**

**REPEAT, THIS IS RATED M. DON'T KEEP SCROLLING IF YOU'RE ONLY HERE FOR THE T. FOR YOU, THIS PARTY IS OVER. THIS IS THE AFTERPARTY IN WHICH THERE IS NO PLOT AND ONLY MILD REGRETS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**Anyway. So yeah, for all us afterpartiers. This is literally a smex scene I had saved up for my other fic Inexplicable (check it out yo for some slower-moving but potentially hot stuff), but I literally could not concentrate on writing the actual story with this just chilling on my screen so HERE TAKE IT IT'S NOT GOOD FOR ME. After writing it, I realized it didn't really fit with Inexplicable's slightly heavier style, so this is probably for the best anyway. Farewell, my sweet child of twisted fantasies. Fly free, into the digital world, and be happy. Dare I say it…live long and-I can't. I'm talking to a sex scene. I'M DONE MANGOCHI OUT.**

Feel Me Extra

"You promised," Jim reminded, voice soft. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he could speak any louder. Not with Spock standing so close.

Spock had promised. He _had_. It had been during shore leave a couple of weeks ago and Jim had led the charge into the nearest bar, a disapproving Spock in tow. Three hours later, an extremely drunk Andorian was reaching for Spock's ass and an equally drunk Jim had shoved him into a table. Spock only managed to restrain him from doing more with a hasty, "Jim, you do not want to do this." To which Jim had replied eloquently, "What d'you telling meeeeeeeee feeerrrrr wadyou know bout what I wanna dooo."

Spock had been silent for about three seconds, then answered gravely, "Me."

They had somehow left the bar after that and Jim had spent the next four hours bent over a toilet. But he hadn't forgotten. He had pestered Spock about it left and right for two weeks and the asinine Vulcan kept dodging and slipping away and _now_. Now they stood in front of Jim's rooms and he was determined to collect.

Spock was silent for a long moment and, just for a second, Jim doubted. Then, just as softly as Jim had spoken, "So I did."

Jim unlocked his doors. Spock was already moving before they hissed shut, grasping Jim by his arms and pressing him back against the wall. He was really, Jim thought, getting quite good at kissing. He couldn't stop a groan as Spock moved a hand up to cup his jaw, pulling his mouth open so that he could deepen the kiss. Their tongues pressed together, withdrew, flicked forward. It was dizzying, _hot_, Jim couldn't think straight. He could taste Spock, feel his bruising grip on his arm and neck and his _tongue_. It must be a genetic advantage of some sort, because nobody could be that good that quickly.

"Jim," Spock growled, the vibrations against their touching chests sending whatever blood remained in Jim's brain straight down to the business end. He groaned in response, wrenched an arm free and wrapped it around Spock's shoulders. He wouldn't be able to run this time. Never again.

Spock's fingers dug in the softer flesh beneath his chin, his other hand sliding down, gripping Jim's hip tightly. His thumb roughly hooked the corner of Jim's mouth, squirming in to join the battle of dominance. "Not fair," Jim gasped. "You're...cheating..." Spock didn't bother to answer. His leg was pressing forward, sliding between Jim's knees. He was all but holding Jim up against the wall now, and Jim found that he didn't much care.

He plucked at Spock's shirt, slid his hands in and pressed his palms against his heaving sides. He felt his ribcage expand with every ragged breath, taste the air they shared and _God_ the burning sensation in his lungs felt good. Unfortunately, he had to come up for air at some time but Spock's thumb kept sliding in and out and he was getting so dizzy spots of black-he bit down on Spock's thumb and felt the digit withdraw with a sharp hiss of air from between Spock's teeth.

Jim gasped, cool air gushing into his open mouth. Spock moved his mouth down the column of Jim's throat, tongue flicking out and tracing his skin, he bit his collarbone and Jim groaned. He moved his hands farther up Spock's shirt, then scratched his way down in a fast, single move. Spock flinched and _growled_ against Jim's neck. Jim bucked involuntarily at the sound and the _feeling_ and their hips ground together. Electricity shot up his spine, loosening his muscles. He clutched at Spock, shaking and burning. "Bed," he rasped.

"Bed," Spock agreed, and somehow dragged their tangle of two bodies onto the mattress. There was something there, on the bed, Jim remembered vaguely. He'd meant to clean-Spock _threw_ him down, so hard he practically bounced, and then Spock was on top on all fours and his mouth was burning and biting and Jim couldn't remember his own name-he panted and strained for Spock's lips and Spock heard his unspoken plea and they were crashing together again. An odd sensation, like a straining bubble bursting-desire_want_longing_need-_was it his own was it Spock's oh God what was his name-

Spock dove into the golden flames of Jim's mind and bathed himself in his thoughts his memories his feelings he bit down on Jim's collarbone again, he liked that, their hips ground again. He _ripped_ Jim's shirt off, felt scrabbling hands at his waist and impatiently wrestled his own shirt over his head, threw it somewhere irrelevant and back down to his Jim. He tasted like salt and sugar and smelled of overwhelming desire. He lowered his head again and blinked when suddenly hard hands were gripping his shoulders-a whirl of gravity-and he was on his back and Jim was pressing down on him, half-lidded blue eyes smirking in dazed triumph.

"Don't move," whispered his captain, and Spock could only lie there as Jim sucked at his jawline and teased the pulse in his neck with his tongue. His hands-his hands were doing something below, fumbling with his waistband. A hot mouth clamped over his nipple and bit down and Spock bucked up in shock. Jim took the chance to grind down simultaneously and for a blazing moment they pressed together.

"Jim-" Spock panted. He grabbed the back of Jim's head roughly, pulled him down, buried his face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder and breathed him in. Jim's mouth found the point of his left ear and teased it with his tongue. Spock hissed and Jim chuckled breathily. Spock's hand landed on Jim's hip, pulled him down again. They were thrusting against each other now, hard, rough contact with no particular rhythm. Jim gasped throatily above him, his back arching in pleasure as the pressure in his groin increased. Sweat rolled down his neck and Spock caught the drops eagerly on his tongue.

Jim's mind burned against his, seared whispers and half-formed thoughts into his own. He was so raw, so unformed, so _perfect_. Spock's final barriers shattered and he poured all of his fierce need into those golden tongues, all of his fears and wants and _you are mine_ _mine my Jim don't leave-_

_-I'll never leave_. Jim jerked as a raging wall slammed into him. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Was this-was this... "Spock-" he choked, suddenly panicking. He couldn't _breathe_. "Spock, I can't-"

Fingers digging into his hips. "Jim," was the strangled reply, and Jim _came_, harder and more violently than any orgasm he could remember and all those he couldn't. He fell forward onto Spock's chest, felt the torso beneath him stiffen as Spock found his own release.. The hand on his hip squeezed hard enough to bruise, and relaxed.

They lay there and breathed, breathed for the sake of just breathing. Jim rolled off of Spock's chest, barely avoiding rolling onto the floor. Spock's arm tucked around him almost instinctively, as if sensing such a problem-Hell, he probably _had_. The barriers were back up now, but Jim could still feel faint impressions. Exhaustion, satisfaction, and...smugness?

"Shut up," Jim mumbled, eyes closing against his will. The smugness increased exponentially. His head rested on Spock's shoulders, their legs still intertwined. It was hot and he was sweaty and they both smelled of some seriously hardcore sex, but he couldn't even begin to bring himself to care. That...what they had just did...that was worth every second of his life right there.

"You really ought to make more promises," was the last thing he managed to say, before falling asleep to an affectionate huff of air from the chest beneath him.


End file.
